


The Case of the Itch.

by BarPurple



Series: Sherlolly Against the World [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Cute, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Sherlock, Itching, Kind Molly, Male-Female Friendship, People Will Talk, Post-Reichenbach, Pre-Relationship, Scars, brief reference to past torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5072497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is fidgeting and Molly thinks she knows why. The truth is more surprising than she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Itch.

As she waited for the computer to finish analysing the blood results Molly marvelled at how quickly the human mind could readjust. In had only been thirty-nine days since Sherlock’s dramatic return to London. A foiled terror attack and a close call for John Watson and the world settled. Simple as that; Sherlock was back, very much not dead and sat across from her in the lab examining trace evidence at ‘his’ microscope. It was almost as if the world had decided to deal with Sherlock’s presence by pretending the two years since the Fall hadn’t happened. Nothing to see here, move it along and don’t you have cases to solve? 

She knew it wasn’t that simple. Those two years had happened and they were all changed by them. She could still feel the weight of the secret she had kept pressing on her heart and in a smaller way she had as many fences to mend as the consulting detective did. Explaining and apologising to their friends was just too big for day to day, maybe that was why they’d slipped quickly back into daily routines; finding stability in the micro in order to achieve it in the macro.

Different, but the same as ever and their supposedly fragile human minds accepted adapted and carried on as before. Except; not quite the same as before. Molly had observed more than a few little changes in Sherlock Holmes and one of these little changes was piquing her curiosity at this very moment.

Pre-Fall Sherlock could sit like a statue at the microscope. He’d once been so still, absorbed in his work, that when he had suddenly moved he’d caused one of Molly’s colleges to scream. Doctor Neil had been oblivious to the detective’s presence until that moment and the scathing comment from Sherlock about his lack of basic observational skills had only added to his embarrassment.

Today was different; Sherlock was fidgeting. Four times in the past ten minutes Molly had noticed the half roll of his shoulders and the way he wriggled his back. An explanation popped into her mind.

“Sherlock. Is your back itching?”

Molly was surprised by Sherlock instantly looking up from the microscope.

“Sorry to have disturbed you Molly and yes my back is itching.”

With a courage she certainly hadn’t had around him before the Fall, Molly stood up and walked behind Sherlock. As her fingers connected with the thick wool of his suit jacket she knew that her plan wasn’t going to work.

“Take your jacket off Sherlock. Come on, it’ll feel better without this in the way.”

“What will feel better, Molly?”

His voice was soft and if he’d been anyone else Molly would have said unsure.

“I’m going to give your back a good scratch so you can concentrate.”

“Oh. Alright.”

Without looking at her Sherlock shuffled his arms out of his jacket and slung in on the bench in front of him. Molly took a brief instant to appreciate the tight stretch of pearl grey fabric across his shoulder muscles. She stiffened her fingers and started scratching both shoulder blades.

Sherlock shifted under her fingers much in the same way Toby did when he wanted fuss. Molly’s fingertips registered something else that made her think of Toby. Her cat had an operation scar, hidden by his fur, but it almost felt like Sherlock’s back; minus the fur of course. She pulled her fingers back.

“Just a little more, Molly.”

She kept her voice firm and steady as she said;

“Take your shirt off Sherlock.”

He twisted on the stool to face her and reached for his suit jacket.

“No need, that was very helpful Molly.”

The petite woman put her hands on her hips and stared at him. 

“Let me help you Sherlock.”

She watched the internal battle rage across his face for a second and saw the moment that he sagged and capitulated. Molly nodded and walked over to her handbag. Sherlock had his shirt unbuttoned when she returned with the tube of E45 cream in her hand. She stood in front of Sherlock, who still had his back to the bench.

“I’m going to ask you to keep another secret from John, Molly. Will you do that for me?”

“As long as it doesn’t mean you leaving for another two years, yes.”

The comment might not have been in the best taste, but Sherlock gave a small smile and turned to face the bench. He slipped his shirt from his shoulders and bared his back to Molly.

“Oh Sherlock.”

Molly’s whispered exclamation was the only emotion she allowed herself. In a business like fashion she squeezed some cream from the tube and started applying it to Sherlock’s scars.

“Blunt force trauma. Skin split rather than sliced. Approximately six weeks healing.” 

Molly had been aware she spoken aloud until Sherlock said;

“Excellent deductions Doctor Hooper.”

Molly’s fingers faltered slightly as she the detective spoke, but she’d started this job so she was going to finish; embarrassment be damned.

“These happened just before you came back.”

“Yes. Serbian gangsters can be quite creative with a lead pipe.”

Sherlock didn’t see Molly’s lips tighten into a thin line. He was focused on the tension vanishing from his muscles as the cream soothed the tight itching of his scars. A sigh escaped his lips and his chin dropped to his chest.

A pleasant silence filled the lab as Molly work methodically from one scar to the next; a silence which was broken by the opening of the lab door.

“Doctor Hooper, can you … oh I’m so sorry. Excuse me.”

At the interruption both Sherlock and Molly had looked up towards the door. They watched as the blushing intern back out quickly, closing the door with a bang. The silence returned, with a thicker quality as Molly finished up and then walked to a sink. As Sherlock put his shirt back on he said;

“I suspect there will be gossip. An engaged woman, a shirtless man who is not her intended, alone in a quiet lab…”

Molly dried her hands and smiled at him.

“Let them talk. We know it was innocent, and in all honesty the quality of gossip around here has been depressingly dull recently.”

Sherlock gave her a real smile and returned to his microscope. Molly settled back into her analysis. They worked in companionable silence until Sherlock found the clue he needed to solve his case. He rose and shrugged back into his suit jacket. Molly looked up with a faint smile, expecting to see him rush off in his usual manner, but he was stood, fingers pulling at the cuff of his sleeve. He didn’t meet her eye as he said;

“Thank you for that Molly. My back. It feels better.”

“Any time Sherlock.”

He gave her a fast nod and left the lab.

Molly stared at the lab door for a long moment after he’d gone. Another secret to keep for Sherlock, but the world somehow felt a little lighter than it had before.


End file.
